Fuzzy White Slippers
by ohmyloki
Summary: Natasha is normal. Clint is an idiot. The tower is a sausage-fest. (Team!Fic)


**Written for an avengerkink prompt (full prompt at the bottom): Natasha is normal.**

**I went back and did some light re-writing of what I posted over there, but it's pretty much the same. Still unbeta'd though. :)**

The first time Tony saw it, on his way from the workshop to the kitchen, he had to backtrack and take a second look. He had passed by the common room and, out of the corner of his eye, saw someone curled up on the couch. This was far from unusual, so he simply glanced over but kept walking. The realization of what he had seen didn't hit him until he was hunched over, digging through the fridge. He straightened automatically and slunk back to the open doorway to peer out.

There she was. Curled up on the corner of the couch in pink sweatpants with some glittery phrase written up the side of the leg. Her vibrant red hair was pulled up into a tight bun to keep it out of her face, which was covered in some kind of goop that reminded Tony of the innards of a rather unpleasant monster they had faced down the previous month, and a bowl of ice cream in her lap. She licked lazily at the spoon, her gaze fixed on the giant screen in front of her. Tony's eyes drifted to the television, curious about what could have Natasha so enraptured—surely something involving knives and blood—only to find himself in shock for the second time in just as many minutes.

_"—it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."_

_"You see? That is just like you, Harry. You say things like that, and you make it impossible for me to hate you, and I hate you, Harry. I really—"_

Tony's eyebrows made a bid to join his hairline and a strange choking noise managed to make its way out of his throat. He looked back to Natasha who was now watching him with open concern.

"You okay, Tony?"

He nodded dumbly.

"Sorry I grabbed the last of the ice cream," she held up the bowl, "I'll make sure to let JARVIS know to put more on the grocery list.."

Her eyes were awfully shiny—were those _tears_? —and Tony didn't know what to do. He took a moment to find his voice, though it was awfully strained, before speaking. "Uh, right. You do that," he said and then beat a hasty retreat back to the workshop, abandoning the thought of food and leaving the fridge door wide open.

* * *

"It was like seeing a dog walk on its hind legs. It wasn't natural!"

"Come on, Tony, I'm sure you're just exaggerat—"

"Tears, Steve. I saw tears!"

"Who was crying?" A new voice piped in and Clint strolled into the gym, still wrapping his hands. He eyed the two as he approached them.

"Natasha," Tony said.

Clint didn't appear fazed as he walked over to the heavy bag and started warming up. "No she wasn't."

"Yes she was!"

"No," Clint drew out the word, "she wasn't.

"I think I know what I saw, Birdbrain."

"I think I've known that woman for over a decade, Tinman. You've only been living with her for a week."

"There were tears!"

"She wasn't crying."

"She was watching a chick flick and _crying_, Clint."

"Oh," Clint stopped moving, holding the bag in place, "_that_."

"What do you mean _that?_" Tony asked. Steve looked like he was watching a rather surprising tennis match, his head turning back and forth between the two.

"You do know that she's a master at espionage, yeah?"

"Just say what you mean, Clint." Steve broke out his Captain voice, clearly having enough of the back and forth.

"What I mean, Cap, is that she's playing you guys. She does this. She likes to have a little fun, lull people into a false sense of security. She'll find out your soft spots and weaknesses before she slips back into her usual terrifying self. It's pretty much her version of 'getting to know you.' You should feel honored."

Tony just stared at Clint, gob smacked, before straightening up and stalking out of the gym. Clint and Steve watched him go.

"So, uh… you're serious?" Steve asked.

"Yeah. Trust me. Natasha doesn't do things like emotion. She's deadly through and through. So be careful with your trust, you never know when she's got a knife on her and she's feeling a bit prickly."

Steve nodded slowly, obviously thinking about what he had just heard. Clint turned back to the bag, grateful for the excuse to hide the smirk that was threatening to overcome his lips.

Steve woke up earlier than normal the next day, the light outside still gray with the threat of sun looming off in the distance. Nightmares. Again. It was never anything concrete, just a terrifying abstract picture. A mixture of darkness and pain, a lingering sense of loss and the feeling of cold fingers grabbing at him, trying to pull him down.

He sat up in his bed, scrubbing his face with his hands and briefly debated going back to sleep. It was pointless, he knew. He'd be tossing and turning until he just gave up. Instead, he swung his legs off the edge of the bed and pulled on his sweatpants, planning to head to the roof where he could recoup and straighten out his thoughts with just the company of the sunrise.

Steve didn't expect anyone to be awake this early, much less already on the roof when he got there. So he was surprised when, as soon as he swung open the door, he was greeted by the sight of Natasha sitting in one of the lounge chairs that had made its way up there from one of the lower decks. She turned at the sound of the door opening and grinned when she saw Steve. He didn't know what to make of that smile. It looked genuine but after what Clint had said…

"Hey, Steve. Pull up a chair." She patted the one next to her. He managed to jerk out a little nod, walked over to her and sat down.

Being this close to her made him slightly uncomfortable. Not because she was a female, Steve was used to bullheaded people, female and male alike, but because he still wasn't sure what to make of her. She was absolutely terrifying in the field, jumping from bad guy to bad guy, taking them down with skill and grace that left Steve breathless. She was ruthless, she was dangerous, and she was absolutely deadly.

But she was sitting on the rooftop in a white hooded sweatshirt, red pajama pants with patterned hearts on them, and fuzzy white slippers. The sight, contrasting so much with her Black Widow persona, would have made him laugh had he not been afraid of what Natasha could do to him, Super Soldier or not. Who knows where she hid her knives in her civvies; he barely understood where she hid them in her SHIELD issued uniform.

So there he sat, stiff and uncomfortable and feeling the urge to _just get out of there already_, when all he wanted to do was calm down and get his head on straight before facing the day.

As if she read all of this on his face, she spoke up. "Something wrong?" She asked in a concerned voice.

Steve's eyes darted to her and then back out to the sun breaking over the horizon. He lifted a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug to shake off her question but he could feel the weight of her gaze still on him.

They sat for a few minutes in silence. Steve felt himself relaxing slightly, letting himself lean into the back of the chair. He took in a deep breath and let it out in a sigh, trying to get rid of the feeling of the cold, clammy fingers digging into his skin.

"You're not the only one with nightmares, you know." She said quietly. He heard her shift and then felt her small hand rest on his shoulder. His heart gave a lurch and he shot up out of the chair, nearly toppling it over in his haste. He didn't know if it was the fact that Natasha made him feel uneasy or because he could still feel those cold fingers on him that made him react that way. It was probably a mixture of both.

"I—I'm sorry. I need to—" he didn't bother finishing his sentence as he stumbled back to the door, nearly running down the stairs. In his desperation to get out of there as quickly as possible, he completely missed the flash of hurt that passed across Natasha's face.

* * *

"I told you, she's terrifying." Tony mumbled, his teeth clenched on a piece of wire as he worked on the torso of the Iron Man armor.

"I don't know," Steve trailed off for a moment, "she really seemed like she cared." He still felt guilty about running away that morning, even if it was from a stone-cold assassin.

"Did I tell you she once tried to steal my kidney?"

"What? No she didn't." Steve looked at Tony doubtfully.

"Okay, so she didn't, but she did stab me in the neck. With a needle. Without consent." Steve narrowed his eyes at Tony but the man continued to talk. "All I'm saying is Barton knows the chick, we should listen to him. She doesn't do emotion remember? She's just as likely to kill you as she is to hug you. Well, no. She's more likely to kill you than she is to hug you."

"What?" A new voice rang out. Steve and Tony looked up to see Darcy walking in, a stack of folders in her hands, the confusion evident on her face. "Who are you talking about?"

"No one," Steve said.

"Natasha," Tony said at the same time. Steve gave him a dirty look.

Darcy lifted an eyebrow at them. "And who told you that she's more likely to kill you than hug you?"

"No one," Steve said.

"Clint," Tony said at the same time. Steve sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay. Well first off," Darcy put a hand on her hip, "look at who you're getting your information from. We're talking about the same man who last week told Thor that it's customary to slap someone's ass to show appreciation. We're just lucky he only managed to do it to Jane before we put a stop to that."

Steve let out a squeak that he would deny to his dying day and Tony looked over, his lips curving into an evil little grin, clearly about to make a comment but Darcy stopped him, raising her voice.

"Secondly," she glared at them, "Natasha is a human being. She is not a robot." She shook her head in disbelief. "Jesus, Tony. Even if she was, you treat JARVIS better than her! No offense, Jay, you know I love you—"

_"And I, you, Miss Lewis."_

"—and, shit, you treat the bots down here better than you treat her!"

"Hey!" Tony eyed her. "Quit hitting on my A.I. for one thing and for another, how do you know how I do or do not treat Natasha?"

Darcy scoffed. "This place is a veritable sausage fest. Us girls need to stick together. We talk, we go out, we're friends. Which is how I know that she's feeling pretty much ostracized around you jerks. She's actually a really nice person with a great sense of humor if you'd bother to get to know her at all!"

"But Clint—" Tony started.

"Fuck Clint. Clint is a jackass whose idiocy is only surpassed by you two actually believing the things coming out of his mouth! Trust me, I'm going to be having words with Clint," she said his name like it left a bad taste in his mouth, "as soon as I'm done here. Don't worry if your little buddy is suspiciously absent for the next couple of days." She shoved a folder at Tony. "Now please sign this so I can track down the little bird and clip his wings."

After Tony signed all the required documents, side-eyeing Darcy the entire time, he and Steve watched as she walked out the door. Steve, who had been conspicuously quiet during that whole ordeal, spoke up. "You know, she's almost scarier than Natasha."

Tony watched her stalk up the stairs, clearly on the warpath. "You are not wrong."

Steve cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, clearly abashed. "I suppose we should do something. You know, to apologize?"

Tony sighed. "I suppose you're right, Cap."

* * *

Clint didn't disappear as Darcy had forewarned. He showed up right on time that night. Though Steve noted a slight limp in his gait and his eyes darted quickly, almost in fear, between all the faces currently sitting at the table, pausing for a moment on Natasha's. She just grinned in response and Steve chuckled to himself. Natasha may not be quite as terrifying as he previously thought, but he still knew better than to get on her bad side.

Once Clint had seated himself, Steve stood up and cleared his throat. "So, uh, I invited everyone here tonight because—well, we've been living together for a week now and we've been working together for even longer and I think it's about time that we actually got to know each other."

Natasha smiled at him and he saw the appreciation in her expression.

"So, I just wanted to instigate a weekly team meeting. Just something low key, you know. Grabbing something to eat or watching a movie, anything where we can all hang out and relax together. I want us to be friends, not just teammates." Steve could hear Tony rolling his eyes, but he knew better. Tony was actually the one to come up with the original idea, though his suggestions on what to do during their meetings were slightly off-color.

"Aye, this is a brilliant idea, Captain!" Thor said.

Steve looked around the table at each of his teammates, all of them either nodding or smiling with ascent, though Clint's smile may have been a bit strained. "Great," Steve beamed. "Now let's eat."

He sat down, the sounds of silverware on plates, the light banter between his teammates, and the occasional chuckle washing over him. He watched as Tony picked all the green things off a slice of pizza, placing them in a careful pattern on the side of his plate, as Thor mixed different foods into a veritable mountain before digging in with gusto, and then his eyes met Natasha's across the table, hers twinkling with laughter. She gave him a nod and tilted her glass in his direction. Steve smiled back and let himself get lost in the growing feeling of camaraderie, the feeling of belonging, the feeling that he didn't think he'd ever be allowed to have again.

**Full Prompt:**

**So, focusing on just the movie-verse, Natasha doesn't seem all that "weird" as she seems to be portrayed a lot in fics (like, emotionally dead, socially inept, etc. etc.). So, I would like a fic where, after moving in together, the team find out that Natasha is surprisingly... normal. She's still definitely a badass, and is very serious about her work, but during downtime she is actually a pretty normal girl. For example wearing a sun dress, using face masks, eating ice cream and watching rom-coms, painting her toenails, etc... (alright so it's pretty stereotypical. Don't be offended! I just like the mental images. ;P)**

**Bonus points if Clint uses his knowledge of Natasha/ what the avengers assume she is like to mess with all of them (i.e., he encourages their assumptions and feeds the fire so Natasha is completely baffled as to why her entire team seems scared of her).**  
**Also Bonus points if at some point Natasha comforts someone by hugging them!**


End file.
